By popular demand, I am publishing my no-knead Beer Bread recipe. I wouldn't normally do this, as it ruins the mystique, but you lot are just so wonderful I'm breaking my own rules. See, I don't genrally like people to know how stupidly, abysmally easy this recipe is. It's much more impressive if you just plop a loaf of hot, crusty, homemade bread down in front of a man and watch his eyes and tongue roll right out of their native orifices as he ogles the majestic mound of steaming yeasty beasties surrounded by hardy, golden crust. Mmmm.
But, as I said, you guys are the shiznit, so here she goes: make it, eat it, share it, relish it, but don't let on how simple it was; let people think you put in a lot more effort than you did.
No-knead Beer Bread
3 cups self-rising flour
3 Tablespoons sugar
12 oz (1 1/2 cups) good beer*
1. Mix ingredients together quickly. (Dough will be very sticky, so don't worry that you can't get it into a neat ball - it won't happen.)
2. Stuff dough into a greased loafpan.
3. Bake at 375 degrees (Farenheit) for 45 minutes. Remove from loafpan to cool.
done, and done. See how easy that was? No kneading, no rising, and it takes a total of 50 minutes from start to finish. Can't beat that with a stick!
*I've done this with several kinds of beer. I like to try to coordinate the beer to the rest of the meal. For example, once I served this bread with a homemade steak and Guiness pie, so I used Guiness. The bread was dark and malty as a result. If your serving this with a lighter meat, like poultry, I recommend Worthington's. So tasty! But for fuck's sake dont' use Bud Light or MGD or something equally appalling. Generally good, strong ales or bitters work best, but play around with it and see what you like.
the meme from First Nations: 10 words beginning with C and what they mean to me. (Is it me, or does that sound like one of those lame assignements your teaching gives you on the first day of school, just so they can assign homework even though you havn't done anything in the classroom yet?)
(Oh come on, you had to see that coming!) Bastard. Genius. Wrote amazing poetry at the end of the 14th century for the sole purpose or tomenting me with his linguistic style 600 years later.
(by the way, i'm not giving this a lot of thought. i'm just pulling words out of my ass as they come to me; sort of a free-association thing.)
n. someone who holds him/herself to be a fuck lot more important than he/she actually is, and lives under the delusion that I give a shit. see Paris Hilton.
What Darth Vader lacked, and the reason he was unable to locate the Rebels' secret fortress.
Instrument I played regularly for 12 years in various concert and marching bands. Source of great joy, frustration, and comfort. Reason my right-hand thumb is utterly useless due to advanced arthritis from holding the bloody thing for so many years.
People who come to your home, eat your food, and content your soul; the inspiration for hospitality and unnecessary kitchen gizzmos; bringers of wine.
Cheap flowers your date gets you out of sense of obligation, but clearly thinks is a stupid idea and a waste of money, so he buys chrysanthemums.
yet another dumb idea, propogated mainly by religious fanatics who's principle motivation is the fear that someone, somewhere, is having more fun than they are.
a tidy little word i use to justify spending thousands of dollars of other people's money that i and they both know i will never be able to pay back. as in "let me buy you dinner, you're a charity case."
Source of aggravation, amusement, and paycheck for the Hairy Man.
catch-all, British word used as a greeting, goodbye, thank you, you're welcome, and as a toast. Should not be used on the wrong side of the Atlantic ocean, as this only invites blank stares and accusations of snobbery, lack of patriotism, or even being an "enemy" (read: terrorist) spy.
Famous Last Words
the scene: I'm standing in Hairy's kitchen. I'm dressed to go out, hair and makeup flawless, black lace blouse, sexy t-strap shoes (of Shoegasm fame), sexy Victoria's Secret knickers, and pantyhose (the kind that go all the way up to your waist). My white linen skirt is on the ironing board in front of me. I am attempting to remove some rather unfortunate and stubborn creases before we go out for dinner.
H: nice pants.
H: Aren't you hot?
me: why would i be hot?
H: well, isn't it a little warm for tights?
H: as opposed to stockings...
me: I am wearing stockings
H: no you're not. those are tights.
me (sensing yet another trans-oceanic language barrier coming on): these? we don't call these tights, we call them stockings or pantyhose. Do you mean the ones that only come up to the thigh and thave the little suspender thingys that hold them up?
H: Yeah! do you have any of those?!? (grins devilishly)
me: no, i don't. sorry.
H (looks crestfallen for a moment, then smiles suddenly): You wanna borrow mine?